


Summer Moon

by Fatouma



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romantic Fluff, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatouma/pseuds/Fatouma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Trevelyan needs a break, and her Commander takes her to his favourite place for an enchanted night. M for a reason, but fluffy. (Cullen / F!Inquisitor Trevelyan. English version of my German story "Sommermond" - translation by NoAkael)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Sommermond](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414551) by [Fatouma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatouma/pseuds/Fatouma). 



This is the English version of my German story "Sommermond" - my heartfelt thanks for the translation to NoAkael, my good old Necromancer friend from the glorious old days of Guild Wars. Thank you!!

_Disclaimer: Dragon Age:Inquisition is owned by BioWare. No copyright infringement intended._

 

 

**Summer Moon**

 

The nightbirds' canto, the silent ripple of the lake's water, flushing around the polings of the tiny jetty they stood on, the rich, sweet flowers' scent – all these sensations of this warm summernight slowly died away with every passing second.

Hard silence lowered on his shoulders, palpable hush, roaring in his ears while he waited for her reaction. Even his heart seemed to beat slower, yet hammering even stronger against his ribs like it tried to burst through his chest. He didn't understand what was going on. Eons seemed to have passed since he had offered her his hand with the small worn-down silver coin. All it was, was a lucky charm… albeit one of importance to him. Why didn't she take it? Why did she say nothing, did not move, didn't look at him? Cullen bit hard on his lip, startling when he suddenly tasted the copper of his blood on the tip of his tongue. By the Maker, if someone existed in this world luck won't hurt, it was her. Or… was there another reason for her sudden rigour? Did she want to send him packing? Crush the timid flower of their love before it even blossomed? A tight knot of fear crept into his chest and dark thoughts where chasing through his mind like storm-driven shreds of clouds.

The longer time crept by, the more ridiculous the scenes of horror became that his sadistic fantasy was selling him as a confirmed fact. Even the moon and the stars seemed to look down on him mockingly.

 

Finally, he couldn't stand it no more. His lower arm's muscles began to cramp and his fingers started shaking. He cleared his throat, wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. "Is anything awry?", he finally asked in a low voice.

She twitched out of her rigour, lifted her face to his and a wave of relief surged through him like a sun-warmed breaker when her ample, soft mouth turned into a smile. He withstood the urge to grab and press her against him, to kiss her 'till she ran out of air, to raid her mouth, caressing her lips with his tongue until she coulnd'nt help herself anymore except to… He pulled himself together. With effort. Oh, Lady Trevelyan, he thought, briefly closed his eyes and exhaled before returning her smile, one day you shall be my downfall… oh, Thari. Thaari. _Thaaaari_. He loved the tone of her name like he loved her soft lips.

 

Totally incoherently, he suddenly remembered her telling him that her father had named her after his best hound. "A great honour!" she had said with an ironical eyeroll and barked a humourless laughter. "Thari The First however was an exceptional she-hound", she had explained under his disbelieving look and her voice had become warm and affectionate. "It wasn't her fault that my father was a dunce. She was of gorgeous beauty and unbeaten speed. In her pack, she had founded an entire dynasty." Cullen had shaken his head in disbelief. He had never understood the nobility's quixotic caprices nor had he any ambitions to do so – what probably had to change if Thari and he would share a common future. And that, by the Maker, was what he desired more than anything ever in his life before.

 

"Th-thank you", Thari finally whispered, almost reverently took the coin and wrapped her lean fingers around it. "I… that's… that's so sweet of you. And I have nothing to give you in return… but I so much want to give you… something.“ Her voice trailed off while her gaze sought his and he was surprised to see tears welling up in her green eyes. Cullen was confused. He had never before seen her so insecure, although he had always expected that a good part of her confident demeanour as Head Of The Inquisition was credited to her iron self-discipline, and that deep within her, unseen by everyone else except of maybe him, an inexperienced and scared young woman wondered how in the Maker's Breath all this ruckus could have happened to her.

 

Self-discipline – that was known to him. He admired Thari for hers and wore his own like a second set of armor. It was like a wall that had never let him down, behind which he could endure everything, although barely – the horribe demons of his past, the memory of the torture at the hands of the abominations at the Circle of Kinloch Hold, the rivers of blood in Kirkwall's streets he had to wade through during the Mage Rebellion, the physical pain of the Lyrium withdrawal, his own fragility – yet, in Thari's company, this bullwark of his self-control was threatened to be blown away in the wind like shadows of ashes and dust. He wanted her so much… _so much_. But what was it _she_ wanted? What was going on with her anyway?

 

„You be crying? What for?“ Cullen rose his hand and brushed the hanks of her chestnut-red hair that had freed themselves from her braided hair.

Thari turned away to make a cumbersome scene of stashing away the little coin in her pouch. It took by far more time than actually neccessary. Cullen surely had no desire to push her, yet he waited with enforced calm. Finally, she looked at him again, blinked and met his concerned look with an involuntarily humorous mixture of defiance and defencelessness.

„I… not crying, I am not. But… it's been years since someone presented me a gift.“ She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. Her large eyes rivetted his face and he recognized a small tremble of her lips. „You… you stir me so. Just this moment when you handed me your lucky charm… and then some. You _always_ do that to me. With _everything_ that you do. The warmth of your voice when you are talking to me… and when your hand touches mine like it is a coincidence… when you watch me with that look… when on the battlements we… oh, by the Maker!“ She gasped heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. Long lashes cast frames of shades on her high cheekbones.

Then she gave her head a short and wild shake, freeing more hanks that painted fine lines onto her face.

„I am not used to be so… helpless. My defences always worked in pristine order. Against everything. Against everyone. Yet you undermined 'em. Just so.“

She bit her lip and for a short while her gaze went blank. But then she smiled, made a silent laugh and tilted her head backwards like she wanted to tell the stars that not only she was relieved to have gotten this confession over with, but that she happily accepted her fate. „But that you knew. Did ye not?“

 

No. He had not. Only hoped. For it was totally mutual for him. A surge of sudden bliss spread out in his chest and enclosed his pumping heart with langourous warmth while he pulled Tharis slim frame tightly to him.

When he dug his face into her fragrant hair and whispered her name, wrapped his hands around her waist and firmly pressed her to his body, her soft, lithe body nestled against his arm like it was made for just that. When one of her thighs gently pushed between his and her hip pressed against his pelvis, his blood began to bubble like lava and his leggings suddenly seemed to be much too tight.

He had to kiss her. Absolutely. NOW. Gently, Cullen lifted her chin, found the emerald look of her eyes and was tempted to count the stars that sparkled in them. He beheld the the lightly-opened lips of her soft mouth that curved towards him, trembling in expectation of a kiss. For the time of a blink he indulged himself in the admiration of her fine-lined features while her breath caressed his face like a gentle spring breeze until their lips finally met. Her mouth tasted of strawberries, of honey and of summer's heat, a flavour that inebriated him and made him forget everything else – the Inquisition, the cumbrance of his own duties, the pains and nightmares that constantly tortured him. Even all the countless days whenever she left him when she left him, sick of worry, in the fortress to venture to and fro the country and risked her life fighting daemons, bandits, Red Templars and Maker-knows-what else.

 

A silent, high-pitched whine left her throat when his tongue penetrated her mouth deeply and asking hers for a soft but demanding, yet caressing dance ripe with promises. He felt his manhood rise with desire. The certainty that she felt the same aroused him even more. He subdued a moaning. It was not the first kiss they shared, but this sound was unknown to him thus far. Seething desire shot through his body like an inciendary arrow while he involuntarily wondered what sounds  she would cant when he would issue all the tender, loving care upon her that he had accumulated in an unused state for such a long time within himself - when at last he did all those things to her that he was dreaming of ever since the catastrophy of Haven, when he had carried her to safe and sound shelter in the midst of a snowstorm… ever since he had held her in his arms for the first time.

 

Something was different this night… and not only the fact that finally they were in privacy – _truly_ alone, not like in Skyhold where every kiss was a quick-about, exchanged in enforced haste and stolen time – under the leering eyes of commoners and soldiers and allies. It was like a decision had been made and sealed. By both of them. Or _for_ both of them? It eluded Cullen but he only knew that he had never felt so inexplicably happy, filled to the rim with tender feelings, with longing and desire.

Here, at this mystically beautiful place that he had always loved, during this warm summer's night, the light oft he huge waxing moon sharpened the frames of perception to a silhouette of black and white, of urgent and negligible – and sensitised his senses far beyond the boundaries that he had deemed possible thus far.

 

He almost went cold when Thari separated from him to catch a breath. She grabbed his hands, held him tight and tilted her head like it was so much like her. "Want to stroll?", she asked. She cast her gaze over the expanse of the lake where the moonlight had moulded a layer of liquid silver upon the surface.. She deeply inhaled the sweet scent of the embrium that grew with abundance beyond the trees' boundaries. "I do not want to ride back to the encampment this night. 'Tis so wonderful here. I want to see more. And I am savvy of all the beautiful memories that link you to this place. Maybe… we can add a few more? I… had the wish of having you all for myself for so long… for an entire night. At least."

 

Her last words had been hardly audible, just a whisper, hoarse of arousal. The blood that shot into her face, the suddenly slightly sweaty grasp of her hands, the expectation and the plea that was in her wide-open eyes – Cullen knew at once what she meant. For a moment, he went rigid  while the muscles of his thighs turned into a custard-like, amorphous mass in a moment's notice. He had yearned for that moment – and feared it. Flamboyant daydreams be damned – here, in the real world, he had never been together with a woman. He had never held any passion for short-lived affairs, especially not with the ladies of easy virtue at the Blooming Rose in Kirkwall, where his comrades of the Templar Order had indulged themselves so eagerly. It just wasn't his way. Women that he couldn't feel an emotional bond with left him physically cold. And the only one whom he had held feelings for at all was the young female Mage that was to become the Hero of Ferelden. However, being his protegée within the Circle of Kinoch Hold, she had always been `yond his reach.

 

Not that he wouldn't object Thari to be his first now. Truth be told, it couldn't be more fitting for it was past his imagination to find such a lovely one. Love…? Yes. He loved her . With every fiber of his being. That he knew, and had known it for a long time passed… since Haven. When he had almost lost her. They were meant for each other, linked by fate, maybe even blessed by Andraste herself – who could tell? He only hoped not to let her down – he had no idea what she expected of him. But he trusted her unconditionally, and at a pinch, well, they'd find out together what they liked.

Cullen gulped hard and banished his nagging uncertainty into the deepest corner of his mind.

 

"I… of course. My mind and passion", he finally answered Tharis question, went ears to how rasping and hoarse his own voice sounded and chided himself for the primness of his chosen words.

He smiled with shakey corners of his mouth and led her off the tiny jetty to the shore. "Cautious be you. The bogs can be slippery and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

 

The fine, bright shingle made soft, creaking noises under the heels of his boots and he was hardly able to follow the chatting, issueing only short-lipped answers while they walked close to the waterline and Thari inqusioned him about his family. His thoughts circled entirely about what was to be happening between them in short notice. Sweat wetted his brow, tickled between his shoulder blades and ran down his spine - and in the meantime he had become so hard it was painful. Now, at midsummer, the nights around Ferelden were always hot and humid, and the stretching, heavy collar of fur, part of his coat of battle, was not the best choice of clothing to cool his blood.

 

As though she had scoured his thoughts, Thari, all of a sudden, veered away and sped off to an oval of silky shimmering grass that seemed to have been spared by the sprouting herbs and weeds. "Actually, 'tis way too hot to prance!", she declared, settled down on the soft grassy carpet and stretched her legs. "Let's stay put, aye?"

 

She pulled him down by his hand until he settled on his knees beside her. By a fluent movement, she levelled-out her face to his, put her arms around his neck and contacted her forehead with his.. Her breath was like a tender caress to his heated-up face and he gasped silently. With her slightly opened lips she slid over his forehead, his brows, dabbing his closed eyelids with the the tip of her tongue, ever so lightly, quick as lightning and playful.

Cullen inhaled sharply while her mouth caressed his dense eyelashes, tender like the buzz of a dragon fly's touch, down the sharp lines of his cheek bones and running along the line of his jaw in order to finally approach his lips. "Ye got no idea how long I have desired for that", she whispered against his mouth and indeed he rather felt her words more than he actually heard them.

"Not so much as I have", Cullen whispered. He inhaled the honey-like scent of her hair and her body, mixing with the dry odour of her leather armor. But yet there was another scent, just a weak one that he didn't knew wasn't savvy to pinpoint with certainty – sweet and spicey and all but irresistible , and his instinct told him that it had to do with _him_. That this was the alluring perfume of her arousal and it was _he_ to have brought it forth. His heart was racing as he put down his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her down on her back.

 

„Thari“ her murmured. Again and again, while he pushed his body on hers and let down a rain of tiny kisses on her face. One of his knees parted her thighs – carefully as possible – and he moaned softly as he felt the heat between her legs even through the leather of their leggings.He pressed the nearly unbearable heat of his manhood against her loin, while his hands became independent and started the lost cause to unbuckle the locks of her leather robes. His passion – supressed for so long – now threatened to get the better part of him. It was only when Thari gulped for air, rocked him away from her top and rolled to the side that he regained control of his body. He evaded her look, embarrassed by the loss of his self-control. He rose up and felt the blood reddening his face. Within himself, he cursed himself for his lack of experience. A lack that threatened to spoil this moment, should he not proceed more sensitively.

 

"F-forgive me“ he croaked. „Was I…"

 

"You are crushing me", she interrupted him with a mixture of cackling and gasping. Again, she came very close to him. "And by the way" – her fingers slid under his pelted collar, moved gently across his throat, making him lose his breath, then gently knocked against his chestplate "I feel too much of _that_ and too less of _you_. Did you even realize that I never saw you without all of _that_?"

 

"You did“, he objected after collecting his senses for a moment, "you did. Or did you forget that game of Wicked Grace?“ It had been one of the most embarassing experiences of his life, and he almost wanted to slap himself for leading their conversation on that, bringing up this memorable encounter to her recall. How could he have been so stupid to go up against Ambassador Josephine? This sleazy Antivian with her angel's face and her innocence personified had bested him without quarter and mercy, not only took every copper penny but also every single piece of clothing from him 'till he sat butt-arsed naked amongst the crowd – embarrassed down to the bone in front oft he top brass of the Inquisition and especially in front of _her_.

 

Thari giggled. "I didn't. Oh, how can I ever forget that! But…", her voice became more silent and dropped a low octave, "at that time I could only watch. Not… touch. And if I had it my way, I'd have kidnapped you straight into my quarters."

 

She rose to her knees and leaned towards him, so that her seductive scent entered his nose, and looked for the latches of his body plate. "How does that open? Looks complicated…"

"Stay it, I'll do this." With a few moves that had become a second nature for him a long time ago, his long, strong fingers unhinged the hooks of his coat, while she was watching him with head tilted.

When the heavy, warm fur collared coat finally slid down to the ground and the gentle cold night's breeze met his sweaty neck, he suddenly felt a sensation of liberty, just as though everything that cumbered him on his daily routine had been threaded into this fur and now had dropped off his shoulders together with it. The familiar working on his plate calmed his boiling blood and returned another quantity of his self control, also somewhat soothing the painful pulsing between his thighs.

Thari leaned back again and crossed her legs. "Cullen?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"Can't we bathe? Or are there leeches here?", she asked without taking her eyes from his face while he loosened the leather bindings of his arms' bracers. He froze during the moves. Right at this moment, the question seemed so awkward that he had to give it a thought at first.

 

"What?... yes, but of course", he finally answered with a wrinkled forehead.

 

Thari had risen a troubled brow. "Yes, of course? What? There be leeches? Or us taking a bath?"

 

He snorted a short chuckle and shook his head. "'Xcuse me. As a child I went swimming here for many's a time and I never ran into leeches. So we could be be about… do you really want to? _Now_??" In the Makers name…. He'd put eyes on her _naked_ , just in a jiffy, unclad, gleaming in wetness and covered only in moonlight. He would… In the name of Andrastes Holy Arse, it has `yond him to stay his feelings.

 

Thari twitched he left brow upwards for a fraction of a second. "But of course. Why not? I am hot, I am sweaty… and I think that the two of us are in need of a cooldown. I don't want this… all of this… to end so quickly. And furthermore…alas." She exhaled moaningly. "I haven't bathed in nature since my father had put me into the Circle at the age of seventeen – hardly a day since my magic had manifested itself for the first time. Sadly to the witness of my parents."

 

"Seventeen already?", he pulled on. "That's unnaturally late. Normally the magical talent is discernable during childhood."

 

"That I know", she nodded. "And it doesn't run within our family. Well… my parents were less than elated about the loss of their precious tapestry that I had ignited because my father declined to buy that white pure-blooded mare that I had fallen in love with. And the next day already, I sat – my hair shorn off – behind barred windows in the Circle's tower of Eastwick." She gave a short, sad and defeated snort. Her look wandered off across the water, fixing to an undiscernable point on the moon-lightened surface.

 

When she spoke again, her low, coarse voice that he could listen to for hours and that aroused him just as much as the sweet scent of her skin, was trembling with emotion. "I am a child of the ocean, you know? My family's main estate is situated near Eastwick, directly at the shore, and whenever I didn't prowl the horse pens or had to do my studies, I have spent the majority of my childhood at the beach. Cullen… did you ever take a bath in the ocean? Thrown yourself naked into the breakers, when the sea-sided winds turn up the waves at man's height? Watched the albatrosses hanging motionless upon the air for minutes 'till they continue to give chase with the clouds? Did you lick the salt of the sea off your lips and considered that must be the taste of freedom? Did the seagull's cry ever enter your soul and made you sick of wanderlust so that you'd rather taken the next ship to see what lies beyond the horizon?"

She let out a low moan, pried her gaze off the depths oft he lake and looked down on her fingers, fumbling with the buckles of her boots. "I wish I could return to that place. Together with you. At least for a short notice. Maybe it'll come true one day… when this damn war is over at last. When we have won.“

 

He sought her gaze but she didn't meet it, kept staring at her boots. A low breeze washed across her hanks and made way over her eyes. He lifted his hand and gently carressed her face. "Ye nae told my about that."

"When should I have done that? I'm always away."

Cullen almost cowered under the bitter tone of her voice. He bit his lip. "It must have been a way hard time for you to lose all this from one day to the other… I never asked you about how you fared the Circle. How you have felt."

She snorted. "The only good thing was that they taught me how to control my magic. Otherwise it'd been nine wasted years. You know yerself what life in the Circle's like.  You've been there long enough. Just on the other side. One person feels cared and protected – the other one despises it. The walls, the bars, the ceaseless supervision. The daily fear of either being made tranquil after commiting a mistake, or lose your head right away – just _so_!" She flicked her fingers. "The loss of privacy and plain and simply _everything_ … my life wasn't mine anymore. But…" she halted, drew in a troubled, shakey breath. Then, finally, she looked at him again. He didn't miss her determined gaze, and her voice was firm. "I don't want to talk about it now. It's a sad sobbing story of betrayal by those I once held dearest. Of lost hopes and dreams. But that's gone over with. Those little shards of time that are my own, next to the daily's choires… especially my time with you… I want to enjoy. And I want you to enjoy it too. So let's quit this matter.“

 

Cullen nodded, and he understood. Finally understood fully what burden the position of Inquisitor really meant to her, how much the mark on her hand encumbered her that made her the only person to close the rifts to the void that broke out in all Thedas like putrid ulcers that brought forth demons like maggots from rotten meat, that made her the only person to best Corypheus and spare the world of insanity and slavery. He pulled her into his arms, stroked her soft hair, her slim back. She cuddled against his neck and he gently kissed her brow. His heart cramped with compassion, but he loved her all the more because she didn't let the weight of responsibility force her down, because she stopped at nothing to fulfill the duties that were heaped upon her. The decision how free or unfree she wanted to be had been stripped from her. She had been traded from one cage tot he other. He would protect her – with his life, need be – he'd be her firm rock in the breakers . And at least during their time together , he was keen to do everything to return a little piece of freedom to her, no matter how small it was.

 

A tiny pinch of regret went through him when Thari loosed herself from his arms' hold. "I'll go for a swim", she decidedly declared. Had it been to his will, he'd kept her in his arms, sitting just there for many hours to come,  but then he realised that the night had much more to offer than just soothing embraces. Frozen by fascination, he watched her unbuckling her boots and kick them into the nearby herbs. She turned her back to him, and when she began to slip her white shoulders out of her scarab blue leather robes – first the left, then the right with painful slowliness – his heart began to race again. With an adept turn of her thighs she removed her leggings and tossed them right to her boots. Giving him a look over her shoulder, she made his hands go wet and parched his mouth. He inhaled the warm scent of her body, stronger than ever, so sweet, so intoxicating, so alluring, and the urge to throw himself upon her and take her, somehow, right _now_ , was overwhelmingly strong. But that this was a no-go, he already had experienced just so. So – hard as it was – he behaved himself. The throbbing in his loin did reappear, discrete for now, yet he knew for that to change more quickly than he would have wished for.

 

"Will you loose my hair?", she asked silently and gave him a challenging smile. "`Tis always hard for me to do this myself. Her slightly slanted eyes were wide open so that her thick lashes almost touched her brows, the pupils narrowd down in the bright moonlight like tiny inlays of obsidian within shiny seeborn emeralds.

Cullen gulped. Then he nodded, moved closer and – with shaky fingers – he began to open up the thin leather straps that she had used to fix up her braided tuft at the back of her neck. It took him a wee time but she didn't even flinch when a thin strand of her long mane got caught in the straps and he accidentially tore at it. His heartbeat throbbed like a drum in his ears, and he couldn't think of anything else but her sitting naked in front of him, a picture taken straight out of one of his daydreams.

 

Finally, the deed was done and her hair flushed down her creamy moonlit back like a cascade of dark glow. Like fire and ice, he thought. Only once before he had seen her with her hair unbraided and had been troubled ever since how the soft mass of this unruly mane would feel on his nacked chest… and now, he'd finally find that one out. His breath accelerated by a wee margin. He couldn't help himself but to lift one of her hanks to his lips, feeling the softness, the tenderness, the barely ripple, inhaling the honey-like scent. Althought he had disclad himself from almost all his body plating, he felt unbearably hot. Maybe a bath wasn't thus far a bad idea.

 

"Ye be right after me, aye?" Thari gently pulled her hair out of his hands and cast him a meaningful look. Then she rose, her buttocks still faced to him and she stood still for a moment, stretching her back and shaking her mane. Cullen couldn't move. To him, the looks she presented were of such a beauty that narrowed his throat and ached his heart. Silently he took up her beauty, taking in the reflexions of her ruby-coloured hair, all of it. The moonlight lent such colour of whipped cream to her skin that made him think of the statues of the Masters Of Old Art, cast out of pure marble.

His gaze went down her long-thrusted legs, he admired the well-formed hubs of her buttocks and the pits of her thighs where his hands could take a grasp of her. Despite her soft, feminine curves, she was demure, tender and no bigger than an elfen female. She barely went up to his shoulder. His instinct for protection flared up like a wave of fire. He wanted to hold her, protect her. Protect her against a world that wasn't low of evilness. But at the same time, he wanted to kiss her, from her slim and trim ankles to… oh, in the _Maker's_ name… he wanted to caress these seductive little pits with his tongue, but more than all he wanted her _to turn around_ … what she didn't.

 

Her first paces were were with tender elatedness, no haste, with the silky grace of a feline. But then she began to run and took the long dive into the lake. There was a spurt and a splatter and he heard Thari squeal of joy when she emerged again a few yards off the shore and waved to him.

Waterfowls, roused from their sleep, went airborne, the sharp beating of their hectic fluttering, mixing with their preposterous croaking, turning the silent night air into a shrill cacophony of chaos. Thari was nowhere to be seen. With a jolt, Cullen was on his feet, discarding everything that he was still clad on with. What had taken him so long to do that before was beyond his mind. Thari still hadn't emerged. With long strides he waded into the lake. The water was colder than expected, yet he embraced the refreshment on his hot skin. He made good his pace and cast a well wave of foamy breakers with his body right before him. The waterfowls evaded him again, admonishing him with a barrage of dressing-downs, but he barely noticed their scolding. Could it be that she had already swam out that far so he couldn't see her head anymore? Impossible, he deceided while standing within the hip-deep water and let his gaze wander. The silver-clad surface oft he lake was almost entirely even, only a few wee wakes rippeled it.

 

Cullen twitched when something stroked his leg, albeit only softly. Maybe a fish or algae. Or… with a jerk, _something_ pulled his feet away under him – or vice versa. He went down, gaping for air in alarm but only swallowing a gush of water. Eyes wide open, he looked around but even the huge full moon wasn't able to cast enough light into the water to give more than an arm's length of sight. Whirls touched his skin, tiny bubbles tickled him. He rowed his arms, felt something firm, smooth, warm in his hand and gave touch – but that something wrested itself from his grasp and the reach of his heands. He launched himself from the ground, went back to the surface and coughed a copious amout of water from out of his lungs. He looked around – sometime soon she had to take a breath again – when two white arms wrapped themselves around him from behind.

 

"Catch me!", Thari called out and before he could grab her, she was gone again, lost in the lake's mild coolness. He followed her, trying to get his bearings in the vortexes. More than once he actually managed to catch her but her smooth skin made her as difficult to catch as a brook trout. So he gave chase, letting her fool him time and again by her quick changes of direction. By his estimate, she wasn't a quicker swimmer than him but it took his best efforts to make do with her lithe lissomeness. Her happy, free-of-sorrow laughter that met his ears everytime she reemerged, lightened his heart so much that he almost felt inebriated.

 

After a wild hunt all across the sea, he finally got hold of her but barely was able to keep her in his grasp, before she could twist herself out of his arms. At first, she playfully defended herself, but when he determinedly pulled an arm under her armpits and simply dragged her to the shore, she surrendered sighing and giggling to his greater strength. Soon as solid ground was under their feet, he presented himself afront of her, wrapped an arm around her waistline, supported her buttocks and hoisted her up so they were at eye level.

 

"Lo and behold. What do we have here?", he laughed, still out of his breath. "I never netted such a fat catch here."

 

" _Fat_?" Thari squealed in playful indignation and wrestled in his arms like an eel, splattered his face with a handfull of water. "Who is fat here? And furthermore…", suddenly she went silent, caressing his cheek with her fingers' tips - "ye put it into a wrong light of things. If I wouldn't have _wanted_ to be caught, ye'd still be splashing around out there. Admit it."

 

As far as he was concerned, she was right on more than one fact. If she hadn't had the guts all those weeks ago to confess her feelings to him, they wouldn't be here today, for he'd never have dreamt to approach her, no matter how much he had wished that to happen.

 

"I won't deny it", he whispered. "And I am beyond words to you in order to express my thanks."

 

He put her down and inhaled sharply when her nude body slid down on him, and he almost instantly went hard again. Then he took her face into his hands and kissed her, soft, long and tender, while she wrapped her arms around his hips and huddled herself against him until they came off each other, both breathing heavily. The moonlight lit up her face, allowing him an unveiled look into her eyes, right deep into her soul, and the plentiness of her emotions that shone out of them almost overwhelmed him. He read devotion and longing, desire and wholesome trust and even more… a mirror of his own feelings.

 

"You are so beautiful", he murmured. "So wonderfully beautiful." Stirred up, he pressed his lips into her wet hair and firmly squeezed her against his body. A strangely gasping sound escaped her throat when she felt his hard-on against her belly, throbbing from pure, desiring longing. Again such a sound that he did not know but let the flames of his passion soar high again.

 

"Thari", he heard himself say low and coarse. "I want… more. More of you.""

 

She went back into his arms, finally giving him a full look of herself. "Cullen…", she said with this low, low voice. „ _Everything_ that you see here is yours. And", she took his hand and put it below her left breast, so that he could feel the accelerated beating of her heart, "this here, too.“

 

The simplicity of this confession stirred and aroused him all the same and he felt something within him come apart, soft and warm like molten wax. His eyes went off the depths of her eyes, carressed the long pillar of her throat, her delicate collar bones and, finally, her small, firm breasts. His hands followed like having a mind of their own, gently placing themselves on those milky white hills that so perfectly fitted his hands like being made for just that. It was a wonderful feeling, better even yet than in his dreams, more silky, more lissom, more soft. He heard her moan softly when he began to stroke them, carefully, almost reverently. The dark buds of her nipples contracted themselves under his touch to tiny pearls and he felt his manhood twitch for desire.

 

He felt the low thumping of his heartbeat down to the tips of his toes when Thari began to explore his body eyes-first, then with her soft, agile fingers. All hackles rose on his body and goose bumps spread across his limbs and torso. Her hands explored the powerful sweep of his neck's muscles, felt the quick pulse that throbbed in his carotid, stroked the firm muscles of his biceps and his chest. Admiration shimmered in her eyes, for _him_ , and it made him so unexpicably happy that she liked in plain sight what she saw. The she lowered her look and closed the short distance between them to enclose one of his nipples with her lips. She whispered his name, a tender whiff on his wet, heated skin and his eyes went shut. Bright shooting stars went down behind his closed lids, when her tongue begann to stroke him. Without realizing it, he let out the held-back breath with a sharp hiss. Involuntarily he flexed his spine and thrust the hardness of his longing into the soft, relenting flesh of her belly. Thari whimpered, a high-pitched, jittery tone, full of lust and happily-accepted defenselesness. She pushed herself against him with barely noticable gyrating movements of her hips and when she tenderly massaged his nipple with the tip of her tongue and her teeth, he almost came.

 

He gasped, pressed her against himself and held her so firmly that she couldn't move. His knees were soft as jelly. All the impressions, so new, so overwhelming, literally flooded him. He knew that he couldn't keep this up much longer. The slightest caress over there, where he wanted it most, mostly _needed_ , would be sufficient to make him explode by all means. He grasped the last remains of his self control like a drowning man groping for a piece of driftwood. But the silkyness of her wet skin, the softness of her body, the sensuality of her movements, the tenderness of her touch, the incomparable feeling of being so _close_ to her had almost driven him to the place he knew to be the point of no return. All those nights, lying in his bed sleepless and beaded in sweat, his hard, swollen manhood in his hand for he couldn't get her out of his head, for he couldn't stop imagining how she lay in his arms and he covered her body with kisses, and how he finally _fused_ with her, and finally the deliverance, brought upon him by himself for there was no other way - all this had not been able to prepare him for this moment.

 

He felt her heart beating against his own, strong, even and so fast. Her breath gasped across his chest and he felt her body trembling. He was as hard as never before, and it _hurt_.

 

"Thari", he murmured, _"Thaaaari._ D'ye know what you are doing with me?"

 

She looked up, searched for his gaze, and he read the answer and her own inner turbulence within the dark pools of her eyes and the slim, knowing smile that slightly rose the edges of her mouth. She cuddled her face against his chest  and her fingertips sought out that trim line of his spine, deeply embedded between the muscles of his back. That touch tickled and prickled so much that he involuntarily pressed himself closer against her. She leaned back, slid a hand between their bodies and let it glide down across the chiselled plains of his abdomen, the tips of her fingers toying with his navel with upheating slowness. Just a little bit deeper and there would be no turning back for him, it'll all be gone and done for before they even really got it going.

 

He exhaled heftily and clasped her elbows. "Don't!" he whispered.

She went back with a jolt and looked at him, eyes wide, her gaze insecure and hurt. She lifted her both hands like surrendering to him. The newly-created space between them filled with coldness.

 

"Wh…what? You have said that you wanted more. And I thought… d-don't you like it, when I…?“ She quit her voice, only her gaze still locking him.

 

He drew in a troubled breath and swiveled his head aside, seeing from the edges of his field of view how the dark sweep of her eyebrows went crinkled and moved into discomposure. Quickly, he pulled her close to himself once aigain, pressed her head against his chest  and dug his fingers into her hair. "That ain't be it", he finally whispered coarsely. "On the contrary. I… I am afraid to love this way too much."

 

"You're…afraid? You… do not know?", she dug deeper, loosed herself out of his embrace in order to watch him. He took in a deep breath and gave his head a short shake. There. Out, plain and simple. It took the better part of his self control to stand up to her questioning gaze. Was she disappointed? So what had she expected – a well-versed lover? Doubts began to gush up within him, but only for the fraction of a moment  - for the warmth of understanding and sympathy that shone brightly out of her eyes disintegrated the knots of nagging embarrassement, trying to build up in his chest, into nothingness.

 

Thari rose a hand, running the back of her finger across his cheek and lowered it further, letting it rest on his chest, warm and calming.

"Cullen…", she cleared her throat, took a breath and started all over again. "I… I understand. Everything's fine. There's…", she tilted her head and smiled. "…there's nothing this night that we can't do twice. Or thrice. And I… I want…"

She let the words hanging, looking steadfastly into his eyes , redness climbing up her cheeks. She looked so entrancing and he wished it for himself so much – he smiled at her, barely noticable, took her firmly in his arms and simply waited for the things to come. He was happy that she now knew the score, feeling himself strangely relieved. It hadn't even come to his attention that in the end it had burdened him that he had maybe roused expectations within her that couldn't fulfill.

 

"Kiss me", Thari breathed. "And then… just let yourself go. Let go of everything – just not me.“ With these words, she put a hand on his neck, rose to her toes , put her lips close to him and he was just too happy to oblige.  Her mouth was slightly opened and his passion fired up again when their tongues met each other and began an erotic, sensual dance like a slow sarabance. He held her pressed firmly to his body, one hand caressing the back of her head, the other one on the soft mounds of her buttocks, while she stroked his breast and slid deeper with almost torturing slowness . Only her fingertips went over his belly, slow, almost languorous, barely a whiff of a touch. He was in a state of mind of hardly being in control of himself, until she, almost casually, strocked across the tender skin that envelopped the sturdy tip of his manhood tightly. Cullen inhaled sharply. He had never known his heart to beat so hard, so quick. When she then closed around him, firm, yet tender, he could not longer keep back a moan, an echo of the surprised gasp she let out while exploring his length. She pressed herself even closer to his body and he pushed a thigh between her legs. The heat that he felt there, the shaking of her knees, the hardly sensible vibration of her soft moan in his oral cavity fired up his arousal like liquid fire running through his blood. But when she committed all her attention to the center of his longing, her thump gently massaging the most sensual spot of his body, the sweetness of her touches overwhelmed him. The point-of-no-return had already been reached, like he had expected it to be.

 

"Thari", was all he could whisper. "I can't…"

 "Just let go", she whispered against his lips.

 And so he did, had it nonetheless for lack of other options. He kissed her, hard and hungry and his arms clamped her into a vice `till her ribs cracked silently. Being `yond his own will, he bucked into her hand, against her white belly. The force of his sensations took over the control for endlessly long, endlessly sweet, yet all too short seconds, clouding all of his being into red-coloured shades of pure feeling. She helped him, wrapped herself closer to him, massaged him faster, and a suffocated moan escaped his throat and went lost in the warmth of her mouth when his climax rushed through him like a white-hot wave of blinding, pure lust.

 

His heart raced as did hers, he felt it against his ribs when he stood just there, with her in his arms, his legs rammed down as steadfast in the soft soil of the lake, as firm as his trembling knees allowed.  Still, he was breathing in hard, short gulps, still the ebbing waves of pleasure pulsed through his blood. The muscles of his thighs felt like being made of wet wadding. He stroked Thari's back, whispering sweet tendernesses into her hair which he himself was barely able to hear. She had wrapped her arms around his hips and nestled herself close against him. She shivered. Her heart was still beating way too fast and he wondered what about her own arousal. Shouldn't he take care of this? He felt the desire to give back to her the exact sensation that she had just given him. It was a dim idea at best of what he could do for her, but he put his trust in her to show him what she liked. He hoisted her up into his arms, just like during the Blizzard after Haven's destruction, despite the fact that she was smiling this time, that she wasn't aswoon and that he kissed her again and again and again. He waited for strength to find its way back into his muscles, then he carried her back to the wee grassy glen.

 

Gently, Cullen layed her down into the soft grass and knelt next to her, just to watch her. Smiling, her eyes were closed, but still she shivered. Her hands sought out his and he gripped her, led them to his lips and breathed tiny kisses upon her fingertips, finally pressing his lips against her palm. His gaze caressed her oval face with the long lashes that rested on her high cheek bones, the delicate nose over her soft lips. Part of her wet, long mane rested between her breasts like a dark river; tiny shimmering droplets  of water beading out of it and dripping languorously across her ribs, just to finally sink into the sappy grass. Lost, he watched her pale body, her smooth curves, the seductive dark triangle down there where her long thighs met – there, everything lured that he did not yet know. He felt something reaching for his heart and start pressing, and he took a deep breath. To him, she seemed the most beautiful being that had ever existed.

 

He couldn't help himself, he had to touch her, caress her, following the moonlight-cast shadows under her breasts and his ribs, exploring the soft curves of her thighs, but he felt her trembling becoming stronger. Goose bumps rose the invisible, fine hair that covered her skin.

"Are you cold?", he asked in a low voice. The night's air was still warm but they had stayed in the water for quite some time. He heard the crickets chirp in the nearby bushes and from the close copse, the eerie, hollow call of a night owl sounded.

"A little", she answered. Her voice was only a whisper, like she didn't really trust it. Her smile broadened and she opened her lids to small slits. The clear green of her eyes flashed. "You could warm me up", she suggested.

 Cullen grabbed his cloak, wrapped it around her and slipped to her under it, firmly pressing himself against her, closing every space between each other. She huddled against him, shivering, and he held her tight.

 

Thari freed one of her arms to gently let her fingertips wander across his countenance. She lifted her face to his, the tip of of her tongue caressing his mouth, the long, narrow scar across his upper lip, until he caught her tongue with his lips and turned her joyful fondling into a long, deep kiss.

"Did you enjoy it?", she asked after she ended the kiss. "Just ago, in the water?"

He gave her a silent laugh. „ _Enjoy_ does hardly cover it… it was… wonderful. I… I can't put it into words. You must have felt it."

That she had, he heard from her deep, throaty laugh that he loved so much and was only meant for him, for she only let it reach his ears when they were together alone. But… there was something else that stirred him, scratching at the very backwall of his soul, like a small animal trying to escape its cage. Something that he had to know.  He stemmed himself upright on his elbows and looked into her beautiful face, locking his sight with her eyes. "I have never done… that… before. Or better: letting someone do that to me. But you did already." It wasn't a question, it was a conclusion. She had been confident, had known exactly what to do, how she could give him the most pleasure. No way was she an inexperienced, nervous virgin.

Thari's brows tightened slightly but she steadfastly met his look. "Yes. But it was a long time ago. A _very long_ time ago. During another life."

"Who was he?" Cullen hated himself for asking this question but he had to know, had to know who the man was who had already had all that he himself had been longing for since such a long time. He could not fend off the sharp needle of jealousy that thrust its vile venom into his heart – even though it was below his dignity to succumb the urge. On the other hand, he loved her – so shouldn't he know _everything_ about her?

Thari sighed. "His name was Jon. He was chief equerry of our stud. I was sixteen, pushing seventeen, and he… I don't know, ten, maybe twelve years older. Basically speaking an old man… for a sixteen-year-old." Her short laugh sounded raw and rasping.

"Did you love him?" Cullen would have preferred to bite off his own tongue, but it was too late.

"So I thought at that time, but as I said, I was _sixteen_. It lasted only for a few months, just shortly before my… _relocation_ to the Circle. When my father learned about the whole matter, naturally he was sacked." She snorted silently. "I clandestinely stayed in touch with him, writing him steaming hot love letters, poetry and all such things."

"And… have you seen him again before you entered the Circle?"

"Yes. Once. The day my magic manifested itself, it was quickly clear what my parents had set up their minds to do with me. So I fled. To him. I told him everything, begged him to hide me. To run away with me. All romantic, just like in the novels that Cassie is so fond of reading. And he... did it. He took me to a cave in the limestone rocks down at the beach. Once again, he slept with me, and then he walked away. Said he only wanted to pack up. But then…" Thari broke off and Cullen saw her lips twitch. Apparently it still wasn't easy for her to talk about this, and he wondered if she still held feelings for this man after all this time.

 

"What happened then? You were found?", he asked her when she didn't continue to say anything.

Maybe it was a solace for her to talk about it, he soothed his conscience.

Thari let out a disgusted snort. „That's one way to put it. Hours later, while I was waiting, I heard the hoofbeat of a dozen riders. I hid, cowering in the darkest corner, when the men stormed the cave. My father walked point. And Jon was right next to him. I shall never forgett how he yelled 'Over there she is! Told `ye, I know where she's hiding!'"

Cullen shook his head in disbelief. His stomach turned slack with indignation. Betrayal by someone that he trusted was amongst the worst and most unforgiveable things he could imagine. "Such a… and he _made love_ to you? Just to betray you the next instant? That's … perfidious!“

Thari shrugged like it meant nothing to her. Like nothing else could be expected from a man. But he definitely knew that this weren't her real thoughts.

"Yes. He did. Probably he had thought to do me a favour."

"Oh by _The Maker_ ", he hissed, all the while imagining his hands closing around the faceless evildoer and tightened around his neck until his cervicals began to crack. "Why'd he did that in the first place? Why'd he betray you?"

Thari pressed her lips together. "He did a log-rolling with my father. Told him he'd sell me out if he got his old job back. Not that my father had to honour the deal. He could have had the details beaten out of him. But by the sum of it, they were more akin than I expected."

Thari sat up, like she couldn't stand it anymore to lay still. Cullen saw her hands clench to fists until the knuckles went white. He bit his lower lip and wondered just what kind of havoc he had just wrecked.

 

When she continued to speak, her voice was coarse and oozed with revulsion. "The best came last.  I tried to defend myself, but against ten lunks of my father's personal guard… I stood no chance. Had I unleashed my magic, maybe I could have roasted three or four of them. But it was likely that the remaining ones would have beheaded me on the spot. Father had grasped me within his arms and herded me around like a piece of cattle. When he led me past Jon, he had the audacity to say to me: 'I'm sorry, sweetcheeks. But it'll be the best for ye. One day, ye'll be grateful.' I spat into his face."

 

Cullen found himself lost of words. All that he could do was pulling her into his arms and hold her tight. She hid her face close to his neck and he felt the quick blinking of her lashes. Should he ever get the opportunity to get hold of that guy he'd rip out that bastard's intestines with his own bare hands. Treason was uncondonable, and even more vile it was that this… _scum_ had hurt her.

"I am sorry for having asked", he murmured, as soon as he caught his voice again. It was hurting himself that he had revived these painful experiences to her memory again.

"No sweat", she answered, but her tone was conspiciously flat, making it obvious for him to be the understatement of the age. „I haven't spent a thought on this matter for months… and I will forget it again."

 

She pulled herself off a little from his body, in order to watch his face with tilted head, in her so indefinitely charminy way like he never had encountered with any other woman.

"Youuuuu", she drew out long and gave him a sly grin, "could help me in this matter. Should you choose to do so."

"I'll stand to your ever bid and calling", he whispered. "What shall I do?2 `Neath the longing that burned in her eyes, his heart began to tool up and he felt the resting longing between his legs to pick up speed again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself drop backwards `till her back was lying in the grass again, pulling him down with her, for his face to be just a millimeter away from hers. Her smile was so broad it almost was a grin. Her white teeth shone in the moonlight.

"You can do everything with me. Everything that you ever wished for. But whatever you'll do… be gentle with me."

 

He nodded and swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "I will never – ever – hurt you. My oath on that", he whispered.

"You will", she said softly, and her hand slid down across his chest and his flank down to his re-awakening manhood. She gave it a short stroke and smiled about his immediate reaction. "That, you will. But only for a brief moment. Kiss me."

He was somewhat at a loss about what she was talking about. But hearing her last order – that one he understood and happily followed suit.

 

She held him tight and firmly pressed against her body, his tongue stroking her lips and finally uniting with hers. He went deeply into her mouth, gently exploring the slick flesh of her inner cheeks and her palate. His fingers caressed the sensible inside of her upper arm and came to a short rest on her warm armpits.

Her scent of honey met his nose again, firing up his craving and speeding up his breath. Finally, his lips left hers and a tiny sound of regret escaped her throat. Using his tongue, he caressed the corners of her mouth, across her chin and down to her throat, finding the place where her pulse was pumping like the flutter of a tiny, caged bird. He put his lips to rest there, feeling the rush of her blood, while his hand wandered to the curve of her breast. When he explored the soft roundness with a gentle, circling touch, he realized that the buds of her nipples were hard already. Her hands clawed into his hair and he moaned, hearing her stifled sigh. The sounds that she made during his stroking were the most erotic thing that he even could think about, letting his desire light up like a searing flame. He couldn't help himself, he pressed her to his body, pushing his hardness into her soft flesh while his lips followed his hands and gently sipped on the rosy blossoms of her breast. When he slid his tongue over them, only a soft touch, slowly and teasing, and luxuriously tasted the sweet aroma of her skin in his mouth, she dug her trimmed fingernails into the muscles of his back, calling out his name. Low, coarse, more like a moan than a word. She pressed herself closer to him, and only now he recognized that special scent of her arousal – sweet like honey, spicey like the mountain's herbs, salty like the sea – it was an intoxicating mixture that amost made him go nuts. And he wanted more of it… but he held back, for this was _her_ big time, and as of now, he still was at a loss as to what he had to do to make her enjoy this like him just before… what he had to do to make her come.

 

His hand stroke over her belly and he revelled about the tenderness of her skin, feeling the firm muscles beneath, hidden from any eyes. He slid deeper, slowly, almost shy. Another wave of arousal washed over him when his fingertips dove into her forest of soft curls, and he felt her going stiff and still. She tilted a leg, her limbs trembled, and he could feel her heartbeat on his cheek, fast and excited. Finally, his caressing fingers found the delicate folds of her womanhood; she clawed one hand into his hair and let out a loud moan. She wasn't just wet, she was dripping, and by any means of his limited, theoretical store of knowledge he knew that somehow he must have done a good job right. He smiled to himself , dipped his fingers into her creamy heat, began to gently massage her. She felt so incredibly good, so warm, so smooth, and he was hardly able to wait for the moment when they finally would become one. He slid back up with his torso so he could watch her face, and he saw the abstraction of her passion in the tremble of her slightly opened lips, the twitch of her closed lids, felt it in her short breath.

 

"Show me what you like", he whispered and saw her smiling.

"You're almost there", she breathed. Her hand slid down his arm, right to his stroking fingers and gently led them to where she longed for his touch the most.

"There… and be very cautious…" She gasped upon him obeying and he could feel her muscles contracting. Her heart raced against his ribs when he explored the filigree lines of her womanhood, returning again and again to that very special spot that she had shown him, and he wondered how his name would sound like when, at the moment of highest ecstasy, she would breathe it into his ear.

"Cullen… wait." She pulled away from him, put her hands upon his shoulders and gently pressed him on his back. She kissed him, settled herself on him, and he felt her wet, hot womanhood at his loin and very, very close to the center of his longing. The heat radiating from her was pulsing, being a caressing unique among themselves, albeit that there was no real physical contact . It made his blood boil and he saw her like through a veil made of the fine red silk of passion.

"Cullen", she coarsely whispered. "I can't stand it anymore… I want you _so much_ … do you… do you want me, too?"

Like she had to ask… there was nothing that he craved for so much for hours – no, actually for months already. He could have said it but he was all clammed up. So he just nodded.

 

He watched her, frozen by excitement and desire, watching how she positioned herself. Her hands rested on his ribs and she looked into his eyes, never wavering, when the most sensual part of her body slid over the full length of his erection. She bent forward, thrusting her hair over her head, and that move alone was so sensual and erotic that he felt himself becoming even harder.

The wet, cool tips of her hair fondled his skin and she breathed tiny kisses unto his chest. And then, suddenly, he felt her heat distinctivly on his manhood. She rose up a little, her hands grasping his arms that rested on her thighs, and then he felt how she welcomed him inside her, slowly, millimeter by millimeter, and this feeling was unlike anything that he had ever experienced before. She was so incredibly warm. So incredibly tight. He gasped, trying to control himself. When his loins involuntarily bucked against her and he, by doing so, filled her up completely, she dug her nails into his arms and let out a stifled scream – a mixture of lust and pain. Had he hurt her? He felt a pang of concern, but only for a moment, for then he saw the expression of pure passion on her face, and he knew that everything was alright. Never before he had felt such a thing, this sensation of warmth and this perfect clasping, and he wanted more of that, maybe even crawling down `neath her skin. He whispered her name, sunk his look into her emerald eyes, shining back, dark and veiled by desire, straight out of her face. Her hair hung into her face and puffed up around her shoulders, flowing down her breasts. She was so infinitely beautiful, like an archaic godess of snow and dark flames, that it made his heart cramp up painfully. This moment was unique – and that he knew. No matter about how much time fate had foreseen for them – may it be a day or an entire life – and no matter how often they would make love together – there was only one `First Time', and he wanted to keep every second of it within his heart.

 

She bent forward, so that her body was lying on his, stretching her legs far out, framing his, and he felt the heat of her skin, her heartbeat, smelled the sweetness of her fresh sweat. Her hands clamped unto his shoulders and he felt her breath on his chest, like a warm summer night's breeze blowing through his chest hair and tickling his skin. He broke into sweat as soon as she began to move slowly. It was, by all means, an all-new feeling of proximity. It wasn't just the hardly bearable physical temptation, the over-boiling lust that he felt. He also felt the bond between them tightening and turning unseperabable. Now she really and finally was his, and he was hers – from tip to toe, with all of his heart and the deepest depths of his soul.

 

He almost wished her to move faster, for he couldn't endure the tingling sensation on the tip of his manhood any longer. Yet, he didn't want this incomparable feeling of closeness and togetherness ever to end. So he let her take the lead, let her control the pace – although he had preferred to have rolled her on her back and thrust into her, hard and deep. But all his thoughts were blown away like smoke in the wind when she began to massage him with her inside muscles. He felt her cramping up, heard her moaning. Her moves became jerky, displaced, and her heart almost overturned. She breathed his name over and over again, and when she sank her teeth into his pectoral muscles to stifle her own screams, he let go and came so heavily within her that it would have done a vulcanic eruption proud. His common sense went off and his being was swept away by passion.

 

When he came back to his common senses, he could still feel the contractions of her core and how she kept rubbing against him. He held her tight, met her movements, and he almost envied her for being able to prolong this unique moment much longer than he was able to. Then she went still, rigid, just her heart hammering against his ribs while the minutes languidly trickled away like sweet blossoms nectar. Her soft, almost dried mane had spread over his chest, just like in his dreams, feeling as though she had covered him in a silken veil. Then he felt her starting to shiver and he grasped for his cloak, pulling it up over their shoulders.

 

"Cullen", she murmured, and her heart kept pounding. She raised her cheek from his chest in order to seek his gaze, her long lashes shadowed her veiled eyes. "I… I love love you. Never before has someone meant so much to me."

He had sawn it coming, hoped for, actually even known that. But hearing it from her lips – that was another thing. He felt his heart run over with warmth and emotion.

"I love you, too", he heard himself answer in a rasping, coarse voice. "I have never felt anything like this before."

She used his shoulders to pull herself up in order to meet his lips with her soft and tender mouth, and he felt a pang of regret upon retreating out of her warmth. She rose a hand, stroking his temple,  his mouth, giving him a stern look into his eyes.

"I have wished for this for such a long time", she said in a low voice, and to him, it sounded like a dark and warm caressing. "And should I die tomorrow, at least I can say to have loved you… and having showed you how much. And I won't have to look back on a life of missed opportunities."

He choked, dug his fingers into her back. Oh, Thari… just thinking of losing her thrust an icy-bladed dagger into his heart. "Ye ain't gonna die!“ he whispered. "Nay way, I'll let that happen!"

Thari's beautiful mouth contracted to a sleazy grin. "That be a swear, Commander?"

"An oath, Mylady!", he murmured and kissed her.

 

She slid down off him, lying next to him – and he did the same so that they were breast to chest, belly to belly, arms wrapped around each other. Not a thin leaf would have passed through them. He put a leg between hers, feeling her wetness that covered her thighs, and he smiled upon the knowledge of that wetness sourcing from both of them.

"I'd prefer to never leave this place again", he murmured. "And I'd never let you go again."

She cuddled up closer into his arm. "Cullen", she whispered. "When we are back at Skyhold… I want you to move to my quarters. You can still use your tower's room as your office."

His brows rushed up and he lifted his head to put eyes on her – he had not expected this. „Honestly?“

She nodded. "Honestly. You deserve decent quarters. With an intact roof, a working fireplace and with no draught. And... when I'm away... I just want to be sure that you... I mean... it will be wonderful to imagine you lying in my bed while I'm lonely and cold in my bedroll at night." She grinned.

 

He thought of her large, light-flooded room with the huge Orlesian windows that looked out on the the valley deep below and the cragged, snow-covered mountains. It was a beautiful room he had always liked, but even more wonderful was the fact the she wanted him to share it with her.

"I would like that... very much", he answered in a flat voice. "Even more I would like to accompany you on your travels... to protect you. To prevent you from feeling cold at night."

She let out a deep and weary sigh. "That would be like a dream... but it cannot be. Regretfully, the inquision's troups' have a more urgent demand for you than I have."

"I know", he mumbled. "Let's make the best of what is possible."

She nodded and suppressed a yawn. "This we will... like we did today."

He felt her smile, and her quiet, regular breathing soon told him that she had fallen asleep. He held her in his arms, inhaling her warmth and her sweet scent, listened to her heart, now belonging to him, until sleep claimed him as well.

 

The sun was already high when he woke next morning. The larks' canto filled the warm summer air, bees and butterflies danced above the deep-red embrium blossoms, the aroma of the latter mingling with the rich, spicy scent of elfroot. Thari was still asleep, her breath caressed his chest and he softly kissed her temple. He hated the thought of waking her, to lead her away from this enchanted place, back to the eternal cold of Skyhold. He vowed to himself to make it possible that they would be able to spend more time together.... and this was when he noticed that something was different this morning. Not only was the most adorable being in this world sleeping in his arms and belonging to him, to him alone - no, this had also been the first night during the past ten years that no nightmare had tortured him. So now he knew what he had always suspected - that love would actually be able to cure him. He smiled...


End file.
